The Cold Shoulder
by Skarrmory
Summary: When a little girl finds and catches a lonely Vanillite, she finds herself facing the difficult struggle between one's opinion versus the majority's opinion.


I entered my cabin in Snowpoint and instantly let out a breath of relief, though it did a fine secondary job of warming up the air around me. Vanilluxe floated next to me and quickly floated off to the kitchen to warm some tea. I stripped off the mountainous mish-mash of coats and mittens and boots that made me look like an obese astronaut, until I was in nothing but a black T-shirt, some jeans, and fuzzy down socks littered with an adorable Plusle and Minun pattern.

I walked quickly to my comfy chair and the glorious fire my saintly fiancé had started before he went to bed, which was apparently recent, the fire still being a good size. I sunk into my chair and sighed. It was the most enjoyable sigh I'd ever felt, as if I released all the responsibilities, stress and work I'd been given that day, along with a pinch of Carbon Dioxide. I rubbed my arms as I snuggled against the chair, despite being near a decently sized fire. Why? Because Snowpoint's crisp air has an annoying ability to penetrate three damned layers of coats and chastise you for wearing a shirt instead of a sweater.

I looked over to my left and found Vanilluxe floating behind a small, round wooden table situated next to my comfy chair. On the table was a small mug filled an inch below the brim with no doubt perfectly made Earl Gray tea. The mug had a cutesy design, a Delibird in a flying sleigh guided by eight Stantler. Hey, I didn't say it had an original design. I said it had a cute one. The two traits are often mutually exclusive.

Oh, and before you ask, the answer is no. I have no idea how he made tea, and I have no idea how he placed the mug on the table. He's done stuff like that whenever I wasn't looking since we first met and, despite my best efforts, I never caught him in the act, the quick little guy. Well… he _was _little. Way back when I first found him near my home, over in Driftveil City. We were both practically babies then. I was 7 and according to a vet (I showed him a picture of the Vanillite when I met him), he wasn't a day over 4 weeks old.

I grabbed the mug that was probably designed by a cup-making company's 5 year old daughter and blew on the brew before taking a very cautious sip. As I did, an innumerable amount of old memories suddenly rushed into my mind, and with it, a chillingly (no pun intended) massive wave of nostalgia. At the simple, affectionate thought of "Oh, Vanilluxe. You've pulled this crap ever since you were a little Vanillite," I lit a gunpowder trail of memories. That thought led to me thinking about Vanilluxe as a baby, and THAT thought led to memories of my old hometown. And I haven't thought about those things in literal YEARS, which, I won't lie, made me feel a small pang of guilt.

After the slideshow of brief, summarizing images and thoughts flashed through my head, I took a less careful sip of tea and smiled to myself. I'd been working hard for the past few weeks. I had just finished winning a tournament being viewed by THE Cynthia, a gauntlet comprising of 128 trainers and 7 matches. That was a Mount Olympus of preparing teams, formulating strategies and, of course, battling. So, damn it all to hell, I earned myself a bit of reminiscing.

"Moooom!" shouted a teenage girl with long, almost black hair. My sister and I were standing at the doorway of our old house in Driftveil. She was gorgeous, by any guy's (and some girl's) standards. And she was a goddess by the standards of any boy that was old enough to drive, but not old enough to drink. She wore a white tank top and dark blue capris with faded, light blue knees. She had Latin, dark brown skin that she inherited from our Dad, and her dark hair fell down her back in a very well-groomed, but unstyled length. "Me 'n Jenny are gonna go play near Cold Storage, okaaaaaay?"

The voice that came back carried a very mellow, happy and even a bit of a sing-song tone. You know: the kinda voice that, if it was written out, would have a tilde at the end of EVERY sentence. Our mother was one of those perky Moms who were simply unable to process the thought that their kids might do anything wrong unless it was an honest, ignorant mistake. "Jenny and I, Nina! And alright! Make sure you and Jennifer take your parka and boots! And NO walking in tall grass!"

"Okay, Mom!"

"And be sure to shake all the melted snow out of your boots before you come back!"

"Okay, Mom!"

"And if you get attacked, remember the correct position t-"

"MOM!"

A stifled laugh and a snort popped out of the kitchen. "Sorry, dear. I get carried away sometimes." There was an uncomfortably long pause before she added, very quietly, "You know how your mother gets."

It sounded like a normal phrase, a self-deprecating line used by Moms coast to coast. But it wasn't. Dear God, it wasn't, not to us. See, at that time, when I first found Vanillite, we were two years fresh of being a three-person household. My Dad was killed when a drilling went South over in Twist Mountain. He was a relatively high-ranking and well paid miner that worked for Clay. At the excavation, he got tasked with setting up a network of lights in one of the designated digging sites. It was a Beartic cave. When they found him, there was nothing but disembodied limbs and a bloody husk of what was left of his torso. When he was buried, the coffin was completely covered, to fool my 4 year old self into thinking there was a completely untouched, spick-and-span Daddy in a tuxedo being buried. I didn't hear the actual circumstances of his death until I was 14, when Mom finally sat me down and told me. I don't remember much about him and, to be honest, I'm kind of glad. My ignorance made me feel a hell of a lot less grief than Nina did.

Two and a half years later, our Mom began dating this archeologist named Howard. He used to work for the Pewter Museum. However, when Mount Moon became an archeological ghost town, he got the boot, hooked up with Clay, and subsequently moved to Driftveil. And there we were, in a very awkward situation with our mother. Don't get me wrong, Howard was a great man, and despite the both of us coldly regarding him, ended up marrying our mother anyways. And I am very pleased to say they are still living in that quaint house as I'm sipping Earl Gray now.

But, we were kids for God's sake. Having a complete stranger shuffled into your house and being told, "Here's your new Daddy!" would definitely throw us through a loop. Especially Nina, who was 16 when our Mom went on her first date with Howard (and on the day I'm recalling, when I first met Vanillite). After that first date, Nina became distant from Mom. And Nina practically exploded on Howard when she was 17 my Mom became distant right back at her. It's complicated stuff. To summarize: being a semi-orphan blows.

But, before all of that, and despite the discomfort between the two, Nina's face softened when she heard Mom's little side-note. She bit her lip and looked at the floor for a moment, then nodded, even though our Mom was in a different room.

"… Yeah. I understand." She shook her head and knelt down to tie her boots, a good excuse to look away from me and straighten up her face and nasal cavities. When she stood back up, she opened the door and pivoted slightly. "Thanks, Mom. We'll be careful, we promise! We love you!"

"Love you too, dears! Stay safe, Jenny!"

"Mmkay, Mom! Love you!"

And so we began our 15 minute walk to Cold Storage. I, of course, was forced to carry the jump-rope, chalk, giant blue-and-green bouncy ball, and bag of jacks we always took with us. Nina, on the other hand, had to carry the backbreaking load of a brown sack that fit in her palm, which was something I had never seen before. She knew I was curious about what was in it, so starting halfway through the walk, she started looking inside the bag and mumbling to herself happily. She also began looking at me and recoiling the bag away from me. She's a wonderful girl and I love her to death, but she could be a real bitch at times.

Finally, we reached Cold Storage. We moved on over to our favorite spot, a dead end in the southwest section of the network of sidewalks the place had. It had an old, shady tree (though why the hell would we need shade?) and a comfy, wooden bench. Nina carefully set down the bag, grabbed one of the jump-ropes and walked over to the tree. I, on the other hand, sat down on the bench and crossed my arms. When she noticed the particular lack of little sis next to her, she looked over at me and frowned.

"What's wrong?"

"You know exactly what."

She replied with a wolfish grin before feigning ignorance, dramatically scratching her head and chiming, "I haven't the slightest idea what you could be talking about, little Jenny!"

I scowled. I hate being called little. And growing up to be 5'4" didn't help that much. "I'M QUITE TALL FOR MY AGE! And I'm talking about the bag, Nina! What's in it! !"

Her façade faded a little too quickly and gave way to foolish, young pride. "Oh! That thing? Not really a big deal." She walked over to the bag and dug her hand into it, slowly reaching around in an attempt to stall and get me all excited. It worked. I bounced in the bench with excitement until, finally, she pulled out the mystery item.

"It's just a… POKÉBALL!" She displayed it for the whole world to see, triumphantly holding it up so that it blocked the center of the sun, making it look like a shiny, angelic gift from God… with dents and scratches in it. It was probably the cheapest one she could fine, if it wasn't dug out of a garbage can.

Of course, being a 7-year-old, I neither noticed nor cared about its condition and blurted out, "WOOOOOW! YOU GOT A POKÉBALL? OMIGOSH, NINA, I CAN'T BELIEVE IT, THIS IS SO AMAZING, YOU'RE GONNA BE THE CHAMPION!"

Nina tilted her head back and let out a throaty, queen's laugh. "Of course I will! I'm going to catch my partner here, and within a _month_, we're gonna take on Alder and wipe the walls with 'im!"

"Yaaaay!" I jumped up and cheered, but suddenly had a terrible realization. "What about me, Nina? Can't I come along too?"

Nina scratched her chin in thought. "Hmmm… You have a point. I can't annihilate the Unova Pokémon League without my number-one fan next to me." She ruffled my hair, earning her a giggle. "Ummm… I know! You'll be my trusty squire!"

I tilted my head. "Squire?"

"Yep! That means you'll be my right-hand girl and polish my Pokéballs and run to the PokéMart to get me things while I'm training, and other stuff like that."

"But that sounds so boooooriiiiiiing!" I sniveled.

She crouched down and accusingly poked my tummy. "You wanna travel with me? You have to pull your weight and help out in your own way."

I sighed. She had a point. "Fiiiiine."

"Good!" She stood up and walked off to the Cold Storage building. "Let's see if we can find ourselves a Pokémon!"

"Mmkay!"

… … …

After a half hour of searching, I started getting bored and a little aggravated. We had encountered plenty of Pokémon by then, and Nina didn't catch _any_. So while we were walking, searching for Nina's partner-to-be, I poked her back. She knew by then what it meant: a whole lot of questions.

"Hmmm?"

"Why haven't you caught any of the fifty gajillion Pokémon we've seen now?"

"Because they weren't all that good. They were just Herdier and Timburr."

"Hey!" I frowned. "Those puppies were adorable! Don't make fun of them!"

"Adorable doesn't mean strong, Jenny." She sighed.

"Hmph!" I crossed my arms and pouted in the traditional 7-year-old manner. "If you're such a good trainer, then it wouldn't _matter_ what Pokémon you use."

"Listen to you… talking like you're _such_ an expert, as if that Pokémon School you go to teaches you everything you need to know."

"We learn LOTS of useful stuff. In fact," I put on the most proud face I could, "I bet I'd beat Alder in a week if I was as old as you."

"HA! Okay then, Miss Red," she scoffed, "but good luck getting a Pokéball. Those things have gotten expensive lately."

I began fuming, appreciating her sarcasm a whole lot less. "I'll get a Pokéball easily! I just h-"

I was interrupted by a round, metal object rolling beneath my feet. I was so set on the argument that I didn't notice it at all until I took the step after I stepped on it, causing me to fall to the ground in a flash. I landed on my tailbone and let out a yelp of pain. I then looked around for the cause of the trip angrily, wanting to throw it in the river or something.

Or at least, that WAS what I wanted to do with it. Then I saw what I tripped on and... you ever had that feeling when you wake up on Christmas morning? That feeling where you hear a little sing-song voice in your head that says, "Today's gonna be a special day~"? That's pretty much exactly what I felt when I saw a light-blue and white Pokéball in front of me. It was somewhat dirty, but didn't have any dents or scratches and looked completely functional.

"Jenny? Are you okay!" Nina was hovering over me, looking me over. She had a panic-stricken face, no doubt worried I sprained something. When she looked down and saw what I tripped on, her face changed in a completely different way than mine, but boy, did it change just as fast. "YOU'VE GOTTA BE FREAKING KIDDING ME! I SPEND ALL MY SAVED ALLOWANCE ON A POKÉBALL AND YOU GET ONE FOR FREE?"

"Technically," I pointed out matter-of-factly, "it's a Dive Ball. Oh, and dibs! Now it's officially mine!"

"You…" Nina started, but managed to take a deep breath and calm down. She then, in typical teenage fashion, began producing her sour grapes. "Whatever! It's not like you'd get a useful Pokémon anyways!"

"Nuh-uh! I betcha I can get an Audino in 30 seconds flat!"

"Fine! How about we make a bet? We go our separate ways and try to catch a Pokémon here. After 30 minutes, we come back to the bench where we set up our toys, pick them up, and leave. Then we show Mom. Whoever's is said to be better doesn't have to do dishes for a month!"

"Fine!" I said. "And you can make it TWO months!"

"ALRIGHT, TWO IT IS!" And with that, she stormed off. I did the same.


End file.
